When 'getting out' is your dream

One of my favourite movies growing up (growing older but already above the age of 18...)  was the Australian film, The Boys.  It's a heavy film with a heavy theme - but a subtler theme that (maybe?) is more confronting than the murder-rape crime alluded to throughout, is the self-perpetuation of that mixing-pit of adversity, low socio-economic status, crime and violence.  One brother is fighting against that life, only to be convinced that his new partner (a snob in the eyes of the family) is actually exploiting him by helping him obtain an underpaying job.  His reply to the argument that minimum wage is 450 a week is something like "they fiddle with the figures -- they'd have you thinking everyone was a bloody millionaire".  This simple scene is pretty amazing to me - it brings together feelings of humiliation, distrust, confusion, manipulation, the power struggles, and identity crises of folks wanting to change their lot.  This is a suburban Australian family whose disadvantage comes down to money and class.

J.M. Holmes's book of featurettes, centred around the life of Gio, a half-white african-american, and his neighborhood friends as they progress from adolescence to adulthood, brings together those same elements of poverty, class and crime, with the ever-breathing spectre of racism.  The dynamics of race in America are not easy to holistically understand on this side of the world, but the racial spike added to the poverty concoction feels authentic and it's uncomfortable to accept.  There's never a clean break as each character tries to save themselves from the pre-destined struggle to be on the wrong side of the law and the poverty line.  You get an honest job at the fire department only to be treated unfairly by your boss, and you can't live off the wage so you continue to take opportunities to sell drugs, because that at least gives you some hope of rising above your status.  You get a payout from the death of your father, whose NFL career has had the end result of leaving you fatherless rather than guaranteeing you a different life, only to blow most of it on drinks to impress a group of shallow girls.  A group of frat boys accidentally scratch a car on your street, and you can't pass up the opportunity to try and dupe some money out of them.  You're able to obtain a college education, but now your friends and family judge you for looking down on them or for blaming your situation on the systemic problems in society.   Whenever you do find warmth in relationships, you end up sabotaging it because you've spent your life overcoming undercurrents of hatred by depending only on yourself.  Holmes paints it all without clear morals, without judgment or even reflection.  It leaves you amidst that discomfort and it makes you feel like there's a problem.  The characters aren't the ones driving their unhappy fates.

Some praise for Holmes (the kind you read in the blurb of a book) has been that he is a voice 'needed' in this generation, and I could agree with this.  Overall, these characters aren't the kind you barrack for.  The treatment of women is pretty horrible, and one story in particular, Be good to me?, was fairly distressing, but still this kind of book does feel important.

It was the second book listed for the Some More Books podcast of Katy Stoll.

Blade Runner and Electric Sheep

I'd meant to read this multiple times over the last decade but must have kept forgetting - probably because the book of Blade Runner does not share its name with the film.  Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep might be well lost in the shadow of the film, which I love, and has become iconic in itself.  In seeing Bladerunner 2049, I had been wondering how a movie, which had already become the blueprint for cyber punk, could push any limits while staying within its own world.  However, I thought they did a great job, while retrospectively (anachronistically?), I also feel like Blade Runner was an amazing adaptation of this book.

While I enjoyed it, and while it has themes that aren't in the film at all - e.g. Dekkard's wife, and the electric sheep (which he owns because everyone has to own an animal and if they can't find an animal then they at least need a fake animal so that no-one realises that they don't own an animal), I got a lot more out of the film.  The idea of 'empathy' being the quality that distinguishes robots from humans is more prominent in the book, however such a message might come across as pretty heavy-handed if done in film.

At first, my previous experience of the film was a little distracting, trying to fit the characters in the book to their movie representations, however after a while I got into the flow and enjoyed some of the language and character developments.  The ambiguity of Dekkard being a replicant isn't really a theme in the book, and so anyone looking for answers in this regard won't find any :)

Is The Power about gender issues or about power?

I am trying to read again and have found it good that I had a repository of impressions I got from books I read previously. Also, Cracked the website (and youtube channel) ended as it was and some of my favourite folks there branched off, notably into Small Beans and Some More News, and there are some book related podcasts from both, although in the former case, Kurt Vonneguys is mainly housed by Cracked. Katy from Some More News started a bookclub called Some More Books and the first book was Naomi Alderman's The Power. So that's how I came to read this book. What follows is adapted from a comment I made on the Some More Books post.


Women across the world start developing the ability to zap people with electricity (superpower style). The upshot of which, is that women now represent the physically dominant half of humankind. The chapters follow the perspective of a few different characters whose stories become interwoven by the end. There's a couple of passing passages that wryly comment on the gender reversal - parents are worried about their boys walking the streets alone, males are now mainly good for eye-candy, the issue of male consent arises and so on, however rather this book feeling like a commentary on gender issues, it is more the idea of power and its ability to corrupt.


The concept of power is explored in parallels with political instability - female militias rape and pillage refugee camps, female dictators become paranoid with their hold on power, laws are passed that suddenly disempower specific groups. I don't think the central tenet of the book is that 'if women had the power, they would act the same as men do today', nor is it just a catharsis or wish for power from Alderman, who could see herself as part of the female underclass (on the latter point, I had commented that some could argue it's a revenge novel, but I hadn't meant to suggest that that was the intention or how it comes across to me). Rather, I think there's a genuine attempt to follow the beginning premise through to reasonable outcomes as well as exploring some different dynamics.


So what is the impact, for the reader, of being confronted with such a world? For me, a unique impression that came through was experiencing abuses of power as a “new thing”. For example, in the gang-rape of a male during the female militia pillage, the experience of the humiliating aspects of rape, the loss of power felt by onlookers, feels new. If it were a parallel scene in a story about an unstable country, I would be disgusted, I would feel horrible, but it wouldn't be anything 'new'. Women perpetrating violence is certainly confronting in a different way. The only thing that stopped me from getting into the book properly was that the characters didn’t really have an arc, set out from the beginning (no goal in a hero’s journey sense). You’re just seeing history (somewhat similar to how I felt with Foundations), and that stopped me from becoming invested in any of them. Aside from Roxy, there’s also not much in the way of compassionate and likable characters - Especially males are all portrayed as pretty horrible, even Tunde is only self-interested - but yearning for likable characters isn't an everyone-thing. I definitely recommend this to people, as part of our continuing education in female perspectives and understanding feminist issues.

The day the world ended

Vonnegut has a lovely turn of phrase - a pessimistic irony toward wisdom and life that is somehow heartfelt and optimistic toward the best aspects of humanity.  Like much of Vonnegut's work, at the heart of the Cat's Cradle storyline is that curiosity of how gentle curiosity could have fathered the atom bomb.  The protagonist aligns himself with the religion of Bokononism, its folk songs and concepts interspersed throughout the text.  Here are things that made me smile:

As Bokonon says: "Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God."

Busy, busy, busy, is what we Bokononists whisper whenever we think of how complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.

Hazel's obsession with Hoosiers around the world was a textbook example of a false karass, of a seeming team that was meaningless in terms of the ways God gets things done, a textbook example of what Bokonon calls a granfalloon.  Other examples of granfalloons are the Communist party, the Daughters of the American Revolution, the General Electric Company, the International Order of Odd Fellows - and any nation, anytime anywhere.

...and then I told him, "I envy you."
  "I always knew," he sighed, "that, if I waited long enough, somebody would come and envy me.  I kept telling myself to be patient, that, sooner or later, somebody envious would come along."
  "Are you an American?"
  "That happiness is mine."

"People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say."

"Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before," Bokonon tells us.  "He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way."

Dancin' with sheeps

So, apparently Dance, Dance, Dance could be thought of as the fourth installment of Haruki's first novel series.  I know that Hear the Wind Sing was used as inspiration, or as the basis for A Wild Sheep Chase, and apparently 1970 Pinball is there too, but I was a little confused of where the symbols and characters had come from when I started reading Dance Dance Dance.

Sometimes I think Murakami is a bit of a one-trick pony, reusing the imagery of other books, the solemn lonewolf character who has strangely attractive girls fascinated by him (in this case, a 13-year-old music-loving girl), but sometimes I'll reach a paragraph, take a step back and look inside, and really marvel at how he brings his worlds to life.  He can focus on a smell, a stray thought, a mundane task - always bringing them back somehow to the story or the character's development.

As risqué as it is, the friendship with the 13-year-old girl, Yuki, is probably the most beautiful aspect of this story.  As with all Murakami's enticing females, there is a melancholy about her that can never be accessed directly as she simultaneously accepts the adult world and clutches to her innocence.  This becomes heaviest when she starts referring to the protagonist in past tense, "You were such a nice guy."

You don't know whether this premonitient (not a word) of someone's death, or the inevitable disentanglement of their lives.  At some point, the protagonist must start taking life seriously and stop driving around with 13-year-olds, while Yuki must at some point enter the real world as a young woman.

obligatory Science book interalia

Didn't really go into this book with any preconceptions. It has been sitting on my science books shelf for quite a long time... must have been longer than 4 years. It's really the story of Science that lead from Newton to Maxwell. The history is told in a somewhat roundabout way but is still quite fascinating. Some things irritated me - I thought it was generally good form to not focus on Newton too much as having invented the calculus but rather attribute it to both he and Leibniz - at least that Leibniz should be mentioned in the first sentence... It resolved reasonably well in this respect. Another thing that I know is inevitable in a pop-book dealing with theoretical physics is the incongruence when it comes to the level. Sometimes notions like commutativity, the square root etc, are laboured upon as if the book were written for 10-year-olds, and then the laws of electromagnetism are merely brushed over.

None-the-less, this probably to do with my comfortability in these types of mathematical concepts, and my ignorance when it comes to physics. Overall, I was pretty interested while reading this book and am glad to have added it's general gloss to my mathematical history vocabulary.

The Sense of an Ending

I was recommended to read Julian Barnes' The sense of an Ending by my sister, I think because it had a few mathematical references in it - in particular a diary entry with the equation

b = s - v +x a

or something like that. I think I really appreciated 75% of this book. There are some nice literary references - I particularly like the references to Camus.

I do find it difficult to deal with suicide in books, and I guess part of what this book is about is making sense of a full stop like suicide, but it also is about making sense of the ending to any type of relationship - to young romances where we wondered whether we were in love in the first place, to marriages that drift apart, to friendships that we don't invest enough time into, and to the death of loved ones.

We yearn for that clarity of reflection, and mementos like Diaries, old notes, only really brew up a sense of complexity such that we start to question what began in the first place. I would hate to think of what people reading my diaries would do to their memory of me. I will endeavour to write at least once "this is not me" in each diary - because it's not.

And at the same time everything is.

I think the power of this book could have come by keeping to the unknowable, I found that the way things fall into place at the end made the story a little less ordinary and therefore a little less universal in the emotions that one goes through in reading it. So perhaps it's closer to 85% or even 90% that I liked. The ending is okay, I guess some people need the satisfaction of a wrap-up, but I think there was the potential here to leave things a little more hung.

Whenever there's "maths" in a book it usually captures my scrutiny - I wouldn't really call the equations in this book "maths", but I can relate to trying to represent relationships between people with letters and symbols - not because maths will solve it, just to clarify the thinking process.

hmm...

A pillar collapses on Harry Potter

After I read The Da Vinci Code in order to steel myself against the "you can't criticise something you haven't read" argument, I decided that I wouldn't waste my time again. After I read The Slap, I'd decided I was not going to read books that caused me to argue with myself about why I didn't like something and whether I had reasonable opinions or not. None-the-less, after a few such Harry Potter conversations in a row, I decided I may as well read it. I think I've never really thought it would be terrible, just as I found the Da Vinci Code exciting enough as a read. My main opposition to it has been the craze with which people revere it, and my impression of JKR from interviews. It always seems to me that she felt herself more original and intelligent than I believe her to be - but of course, again, I'm just going around projecting, right?

Anyway, so I read it. The story has all the classical elements that my dad would talk about - main character, disturbance, goal, complications, potential disaster, wisdom figures, time-out, failure and recovery etc. I've often felt that the family situation of Harry was pretty reminiscent of Roald Dahl's Matilda, and the English country-side and school-boy interactions similar to Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - but it was pointed out to me that the idea of a magic school was reasonably original. In terms of fantastical aesthetic, I do prefer something more like X-Men, with different characters and different powers, which makes there less of a need to indulge in stereotypes like the goody-school-girl Hermione - although I do quite like her as a character.

The thing that Rowling does very sensibly is include plenty of nonsense. I think this is key to Children's fiction and it's something we easily forget as adults. Perhaps my favourite description in the book is that of the Uncle every now and again looking up from his paper only to say "you need a haircut".

So I am not inclined to read the rest - I can probably continue to say that I don't really like Harry Potter, but can probably more clearly say now that, although it's reasonably enjoyable, it just doesn't quite have the depth and complexity that I like (yes, x-men does have this level of complexity, because they have 30 years of storyline!)- and this is merely due to it being YA which caters to a bracket in which I do not fit. I don't think I've ever held it against people to like this? or have I? My whole family always liked it so how could I hold it against anyone?

But oh well, it seems i'm less anti-the-world now.

Battle Royale is better than The Slap!

I've only been reading Battle Royale by Koushun Takami for a few days, but i'm already half-way through and my love of great literature has been revitalised.

In particular, and I don't know why I keep coming back to this (an internal argument constantly going on in my mind), this is a book that stimulates ideas and could be talked about.

Having spent most of the last 10 years concentrating my reading efforts on relatively old books, with only Murakami and a few others bringing me back to modern literature, I sometimes feel a bit neglectful of the here and now, and try to read a book that will supposedly one day become a classic - get informed about who the good authors are etc. I read the Slap on such assumptions, that this was a book by a supposedly intelligent person that people felt the need to talk about and were challenged by (and indeed, I've felt the need to talk about it - but would probably not have bothered if other people weren't raving about it).

Of course, it seems ridiculous to compare Battle Royale and The Slap - but having an interest in maths and keeping in mind that people often describe algebraic rules in terms of now being able to compare apples and oranges... or add apples and oranges? and how misleading this idea is, i'll say that if the conversation is whether books are worthy of attention or not, it's a free-for-all. so here it is:

It's a valid artistic endeavour to explore the dark-side of human nature, to challenge our perceptions that, at heart, everyone is basically good. It's valid to look at societal problems and identify the cultural mindset that leads to such problems, and wonder at how things go wrong when humans try to organise themselves together.

The Slap attempts to explore some of these issues by looking at extraordinary people in an ordinary situation - i.e. ethnic-age-and-status stereotypes at an Australian Christmas barbecue where someone oversteps their supervisory role. Tsiolkas' main vehicle for doing this is the ego dialogue. My main concern with him using this to explore human nature is that peripheral thoughts (e.g. for some reason I'm angry enough to hit that person, or that young girl is attractive) are treated as dominating thoughts, but because people can identify with both types, they are insensitive to the important difference and walk away from this book saying "I know people like that", "this is the truth".

On the other hand, Takami looks at ordinary people in an extraordinary situation - japanese school kids (albeit with an over-representation of athletic and pretty ones) getting tossed into a game of kill or be-killed. The idea is ridiculous and cliche - I don't know how many times it's been done before. The plot is reasonably predictable - people don't want to play the game but fear and distrust take over - BUT, I am constantly awe-struck at the insights into the human psyche that can be expressed in such an arena. Human weaknesses are accepted and pushed, however the yearning of humans for love and trust is also given a voice. There are beautiful moments of friendship, tragic moments of weakness, and the humans without either are chilling - and one should be chilled in the face of such things.

Here's hoping I never put myself through a "slap" in the future in an attempt to be up with "what's good".

On the threshold of meaning and purpose

When it comes to understanding my own identity - the illusion of its permanence and the intuitive notion that something endures, the yearning for transcendence, how I should be relating to people and why it is that I seem different to others - the order of things I like to read is: philosophical literature (i.e. good fiction), literature-inspired-philosophy (i.e. colourful philosophy), something else, mathematics, something else and lastly, probably, self-help books.

I definitely have an aversion to the Dr.Phil, Tony Robins type of self-help that perpetuates that harboured idea that lands us in all this trouble in the first place: that you will be something important. We are nurtured (at least in western society) from birth being told that we are something special and that we can "make something" of our lives, when the truth is actually that most people live mediocre lives (by definition) and that, on the whole, most people deal with that pretty well. It's confronting the idea that all we've been lead to believe regarding how special we are and fated our lives are that can cause a real personal crisis.

However, as beautiful as philosophy can be, there is a certain inaccessibility to the ideas. It helps us ponder things and try to overlay some coherency and authenticity in the way we live our lives, but it is poetry-based morality at best and, for the majority of people, needlessly complex.

It makes sense then, that after decades as an educator, in love with ideas and determined that these should be used by people to enrich their lives, that my Dad would begin a curriculum for whole living series - a series that attempts to find that common ground of living one's life and thinking about one's life. Yes - it is essentially a step-by-step self-help series - a self-help series that I've probably participated in more than any other since I was in one of my Dad's classes in Year 8 that comprised part of its foundation. However, the book is more philosophical (and literature-inclined philosophical at that) as well as psychologically-interested than most self-help books (I dare to presume - the closest thing to a self-help book I've read is eats, shoots and leaves... i think).

This first book takes the reader through a series of big questions and draws attention to certain aspects of identity in order that she can better understand herself and articulate this understanding. The reader is encouraged to keep a journal in parallel and complete exercises that help wade through those distracting features we too easily confuse with our identities.

I particularly enjoyed reading about the various theories of the self, of happiness, of questions, of wholeness. I didn't do any of the book's activities (although I have in the past), but they are the sort of activities I wouldn't mind doing if I wanted to structure my quest for wholeness more formally. To many I gave a nod that this is the sort of thing I either consciously think about or keep journal entries regarding, anyhow. It is the activities that allow the gap to be bridged between the search for meaning, and the way we live our lives and understand ourselves. I believe better understanding ourselves, beyond the cliches, is something that's necessary, and something where many would benefit from a guided approach.

Of course, I also particularly enjoyed reading about the personal thoughts and histories that allow me to know my father better - I would probably prefer to read an autobiography and his own personal philosophy book - but realize that I am a small audience for a 5-year endeavour.

Contrasting Autobiographies

So in-line with deciding to run the half marathon in July, and my tendency to read a Murakami for every second book, i started reading What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. This is essentially a few autobiographical stories and thoughts of Murakami, set amidst his training for the New York Marathon one year. It's nice to read a bit more about his history, although there tend to be a lot of "I'm the kinda guy" sentences which I don't like... and all of the distances are in miles, i wonder whether this is due to the americanness of the translation.

At the same time my dad gave me my uncle Colin's autobiography. Uncle Colin would love to be able to do a little of what Murakami does, he would love to be able to walk down the street, but he has been confined to a wheelchair since the age of 3. His outgoing nature and love of music has allowed him to live quite a full life, socially with a club he began in his early adulthood and throughout his life as an entertainer. Like anyone who learns to get on with it and love life in the face of a limitation, Col's most difficult moments are when he has to confront his disability head on. Whenever anything happens because of his disability - a girl's parents won't support their relationship, a wife decides it's getting to be a bit too much, his boss decides he's just a bit too slow at getting around - these moments are the hardest to deal with, because the last thing he's ever wanted to do is blame his circumstances for his happiness. When someone tells you it's specifically because he is in a wheelchair that they won't be with him, how could he do anything but blame the chair for this disappointment? Colin is also a bit of an "I'm the kinda guy" type of person, but I guess this is the essential question when someone reads an autobiography.

2011 China Books

So after I accepted that I would give up on Flatterland, I did manage to start (and finish) Great expectations over the course of 2011. Wonderfully playful and interesting throughout, but long I guess. I was surprised how much I remembered of the Ethan Hawke film but looking back at a trailer it seems like the story is pretty different. Again, unrequited love is sometimes over-romanticised, but here it is at least is not held as something transcendentally pure - rather we just think Pip is a bit young and foolish. Glad to have finally read this - it's been on the shelf for a while.

Then back into the Murakami short stories The elephant vanishes. Some of these stories were extended to his longer stories, others seem like short exercises. I guess one that, although simplistic, really stands out for me was a little love story about passers-by. We could walk past the perfect person for us every day, but of course as we get older it becomes much less of a good idea to hassle people in the street and tell them this. Fortunately, people have RSVP which is sort of the same but doesn't involve as much of the uncertainty that hassling people on the street would.

Because I finished it earlier than expected while traveling in China, I also read The Scarlett Letter - entirely on my iPhone. It did seem like a bit of undesirable thing to read a book in this way, but it wasn't available in the library after I cam home either. I certainly would rather a book for recreational reading. The Scarlett Letter has become such an icon in our society - even Tool's the grudge has a reference to it, but I had no idea what the intention of the book had been. The story seems a perfect illustration of Sartrean bad faith - on the one hand you have an adultress who, by proudly wearing her confession, is able to accept herself and become quite a beautiful character, while on the other you have the community, forcing her to wear the confession and disfiguring their moral beings Dostoyevsky-like in the process. Despite the Christian overtones of the book, Christian morality doesn't really play much of a part here, since there are so many symbols and dreamscapes in the book the society and religion that governs it may as well be fictional.

a year and a bit of books...

So... seems like I gave up a while ago... i hadn't realised. Well, I guess August 2010 I was just finishing up the writing of my PhD so there probably wasn't much time to keep count.

I did end up reading Everything Ravaged, Everything burned - which was pretty nice. Estelle Tang had a nice review of this. I recall being a little unsettled with the graphic descriptions in the final story - in particular a creative viking ritual called a "bloody angel". Like watching a Chan-wook park film - you sort of wonder what it adds to your life to be exposed to macabre art. I guess at some level it stops you from making your way passively through life without having to experience emotion, which is sort of good. There were a whole lot of pretty human characters in these stories, I remember hearing Tower say that he liked to bring the reader's character sympathies to an alternative point as the stories progress... I'm not sure whether this worked or not. The characters were human, but because they weren't my kind of human, I found it hard to genuinely sympathise.

I also made attempts to read flatterland, but i found it got a bit dull and I couldn't be bothered with the teenage girl-square protagonist (or is she a pentagon?). On the other hand, I found reading flatland earlier in the year delightful. It is a metaphor for relativity, in particular of how we perceive the forces of 4 dimensions in 3.

Moby Dick

After a few chapters my suspicion was that Moby Dick would be one of those turn of the century novels which would be justified by a few beautiful paragraphs. At least, at the rate I read and general difficulty when it comes to concentrating, I tend to get a bit lost in books like Heart of Darkness, The Great Gatsby - books from this time period where the short novel was emerging from realist fiction. So after the first few chapters, I figured Moby Dick was going to do this to me, and in particular I was waiting for a line referred to by Patrick Stewart in Star Trek: First Contact, "If his chest had been a cannon" or something like that.

The line never came. I think it's misquoted and actually should be "if his chest had been a mortar," and either way, I missed the sentiment. I did find the writing all very good, but the ideas of nobility in whaling were lost on me a bit, even trying to appreciate the whole 'different times' thing.

So, yes. Good, and some nice sentiments somewhere in it - and the depictions of a hostile ocean are quite full-on for a shark-fearing man like myself, but I think maybe this book didn't change my life. Oh well.

not a literary critic

I made it through the slap - and i decided that from now on, I will not pretend that I have decent opinions on literature and retreat into books that i like.

my problem with the slap is, as i remarked for dfw, that by articulating inner thoughts of people that occur on the periphery (if at all), it privileges them to the point that they seem like the central driving force of each character. E.g., I might walk past a billboard of a sports-woman, and for whatever reason, will imagine her losing her leg below the knee, then perhaps in order for that to happen i will imagine sawing it off with a hack-saw. It's not something i set out to think about, it's not a thought that i entertain for any amount of time, in fact, i will usually move on without thinking that i have thought it, but somewhere in that brain of mine it was there. It's not that i actually want to torture someone, or become a surgeon or anything, though. So - with The Slap, is it really capturing the essence of a character if he sees a girl and then just thinks of aggressively f*ing her? Is it naive of me to think that, in general, most people are reasonably well-intentioned?

Secondly, sometimes the dialogue between characters is just awful. I'll admit that sometimes it's realistic enough, but sometimes I sort of feel insulted that I have to read a passage and buy it.

I'm happy for others to call this good. It's just not something that I get much out of, and in the future I will not be duped into such exploits. I will, instead, read Kurt Vonnegut's posthumous release which has some nice sentimental goings on... but sentiments that I like and am happy to read about.

Tom tom cho

Stuck in the middle of unenthralling "The Slap", I reached up to the pile of books above my head and started reading Tom Cho's short stories. Man, so funny! Some of the stories draw upon his life as an Asian Australian: sweet and sour pork recipes passed down from generation to generation, an aunt who likes to point out how similar "this house is mine" and "do i smell burning" look in cantonese -and other bits from his life as a geek: dungeons and dragons, 80s movies. I read this within a couple of days, often sitting up in bed by myself and giggling.. if not sitting in a crowded university cafeteria doing the same thing.

The brilliance of Tom Cho, I think, is not just that he's funny - but that some of his derivatives quite complex and intelligent. The majority of these stories touch on a real emotion, a real problem or dilemma, and only use comedy to belie the absurdity inherent in life, or as something to ease the tension. I wonder how he goes about writing these stories - does he base the story around the serious bit? or does he insert serious bits into a comedy sketch? or is this all just Tom Cho winging it? Given that he has just finished his PhD, I must assume that he really thinks out these pieces and it pays off.

Having finished Look Who's Morphing, i had to return to the Slap. I have never been so tempted not to bother finishing a book... it is a hard slog. I'm not saying it's not good. I can understand that some of it demonstrates acute observations into Australian middle-class culture - but some of it just seems too contrived and yet too shallow. He produces characters who live, breathe, speak like someone you know well - and yet this character is empty and it doesn't quite make sense... as if he has noticed how a person acts but doesn't understanding why they act that way - drawing instead on an amalgamated understanding. Is it really the case that everyone cheats on their wives so determinedly? Is a woman who breastfeeds her child for a long time really the sort of person who will be so vindictive when it comes to a cousin of her friend? Is it necessary to begin each sexual encounter with "she cupped his balls" - frankly I much prefer to hear about Tom Cho "having the hottest sex you can imagine".

So there you go, who'd have thought one could compare these books in a meaningful fashion? Looks like I found a way!

I wish I were a better physicist/mathematician/astronomer/genius

I enjoy pop-science... perhaps because I am only a mediocre scientist. Bryson's book was recommended to me by a student, and I mainly enjoyed it so much because of all the talk of giant and tiny things. He has a nice way of using absurd measurements "enough marbles to fill the superbowl" or the number of years it takes to reach pluto travelling at a reasonable speed.

As with most science books like this, I am unable to recall most of the facts, but Bryson's stuff seems well researched and is obviously very accessible.

I will not go on and on and on and on. Except to say that it's these sorts of books that make me wonder what on earth it all means...

still like haruki

South of the Border, West of the Sun is a typical Murakami, ambiguous as to whether there's anything supernatural there. From what I can tell, there are three forces at play (each symbolised by a woman): 1. enduring nostalgia for a first love, 2. guilt, 3. mid-life mediochrity.

So after telling the story of his childhood dear (1), his high-school sweetheart (2) and the nothingness inbetween before his current predicament (married with 2 girls), Hajime is fascinated to hear about Izumi (2) and that she has changed. Inside Hajime is the insatiable feeling that something is missing, which leads him back to these past loves.

It's quick, it's not the best Murakami, but overall I think the sentiment is about right and I enjoyed it.

Mathematical Fallacies and Paradoxes

This is essentially a history of mathematics, told with an emphasis on paradoxes and disputes that have happened over time in the mathematical world. At some times things are simplified so as to be accessible to the non-mathematical orientated reader, however there is some description that gets pretty full on - so I wonder how successful this book was in that regard.

It turns out, in my opinion, that some paradoxes and fallacies are more fun than others. My favourite from this book probably being

A civil-defence exercise will be held this week. In order to make sure that the civil-defence units are properly prepared, no one will know in advance on what day this exercise will take place.

which has it's counterpart in a man rings his wife and says she will receive an unexpected gift, a gold watch. She knows it will be unexpected, but now she expects a watch, so it can't be a watch... then it is.

these are more logical than mathematical - perhaps a more appropriate one is to define a number as "the lowest number that cannot be defined in less than 19 syllables", however this sentence (which can also define the number) has less than 19 syllables, so it can't be that number! awesome.

DFW

I won't go into great detail here as I think I read brief interviews with hideous men, searching for the wrong thing. David Foster Wallace is widely hailed as a genius, or at least very intelligent, and he certainly comes across as such, however I wonder whether much of the time he is more focused on the perturbation of form as an end rather than a means to convey a message, feeling, emotion. I'm not saying that all stories should have a moral, but I like to be moved by a story, even if it is uncertainly or profoundly but in an uncertain direction.

I don't mind a story to leave you wondering whether the character should be sympathised with, but I'm not drawn into a story where a character is created, endowed with what purport to be the secret, unconscious or "real" ambitions of people. And then the question is, am I getting it wrong? If I am, is that my fault as a reader or DFW as an author?

Anyway, definitely worth reading, and I guess when a book makes me really think long and hard about what I think of it and why I think this way, it's proabably a good thing.